


Golden Girl

by captainellie



Category: Tangled (2010)
Genre: Chocolate Box Treat, F/M, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Implied Pub Thugs/Flynn Rider, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainellie/pseuds/captainellie
Summary: Everyone in the pub has a dream. Rapunzel brings it out of them.
Relationships: Pub Thugs/Rapunzel (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Golden Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naughty_sock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughty_sock/gifts).



Flynn Rider sagged sideways against the wall, nearly falling out of the chair they’d propped him in. His snores were lost to the noise of big men slamming into each other, knocking arms and legs as they circled in on the girl laid out on the table, arms bound behind her with her golden hair, body bare and pale, the skin smooth and untouched.

The pub owner put one hand on her bum, and held her in place as she tried to wiggle away.

“Who’s first, boys?” he asked, and their voices rose in offers as they raced to be the one who could open her up.

Rapunzel lay there, gagged by cloth shoved into her mouth and tied around the back of her head, tears filling her eyes. She blinked hard. She would not let them fall. She would not react. She would not let them see that they had any impact on her.

Fingers prodded between her legs. Rapunzel closed her eyes and took her mind elsewhere, far away to light and warmth and freedom.

Sometime later, how long she didn’t know, nor how many men had taken her, she came back to herself. Rough hands gripped her hips and lifted her up. Her bare ass burned and throbbed, and when a hand prodded her cheek, she cried out, though the noise was muffled in the gag.

Her breasts pressed hard into the wooden table. With her hands bound behind her, she wasn’t able to lift her chest to give herself any relief, and her nipples were abraded from the friction. The man behind her kept her feet from touching the floor. For a moment, all she had was her breasts against the table and his hands on her hips, and she floated otherwise, suspended between them.

Then he nudged his shaft between her legs, against her slick and sore folds. She bit at the gag, trying to hold back her moan. It was soaked from drool and tears, salty and sour.

He pushed inside her one slow inch at a time. He was wider than the men before him, and longer, and strong enough to hold her suspended in place.

By the time he worked himself in to the hilt, Rapunzel was a shaking, sobbing mess.

“Look at ‘er!” One of the patrons cried. He grabbed her face between two meaty hands and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “She’s wet herself over, taking James.”

“James the Giant Slayer!” the pub owner called out, and around her everyone cheered. Ribald jokes flew, and fingers prodded at her, but Rapunzel was too dazed to care. Every bit of her attention focused on the slow thrust of the man holding her. He pulled out until she was empty, then pushed back inside, dragging through her, making her strain and twitch as he opened her more with each pass.

Fingers slid into her hair and jerked her head up. Rapunzel’s scalp throbbed and her eyes watered at the pain, but though she strained, she couldn’t escape that grip.

The man in front of her touched the side of his hook to her cheek, gathering her tears. He slid the sharp tip down until it caught the strap holding the gag in place. With one hard tug, he removed it. Rapunzel’s mouth gaped open, drool gathered at the corners.

His trousers were open already, his manhood ruddy and swollen. He held her head still as he brought it to her mouth. Without a hand to guide it, he bumped against her, leaving a trail of wetness across her lips, but then he got the angle right and pushed inside.

There was no slow buildup. He gripped the back of her head and thrust forward, driving the bulbous head into her throat, so deep she couldn’t even gag around it. He held himself there as he made short, sharp thrusts that barely worked himself back and forth, a little deeper into her throat each time.

Behind her back, Rapunzel's hands juddered and twitched, and her fingers tangled in her hair. Her vision went blurry, darkening at the edges, and her body twisted and jerked, struggling for air.

Just when she was on the edge of passing out, he pulled back, all the way until the tip of his penis rested on her lower lip. She sucked in air, grateful, in a terrible way, for the reprieve. It didn’t last long. She took three great gulps of hot pub air, and he was inside her again, back in her throat. He moved in rabbity thrusts, abrupt and fast, and pulled her head closer still.

He bellowed and came, shooting his load straight down her throat. It was thick and hot as it filled her, and by the time he was done spurting, she was dizzy from lack of oxygen again, her mind half-gone.

He pressed his hook against her cheek again as he pulled out, a cold bite of flat metal almost comforting now. Her vision blurred as she stared up at him. He patted her cheek with his hook and moved back. She tried to follow him with her gaze, but someone else stepped in to take his place.

This one wore a horned helmet, but she couldn’t make out the details. He pressed his thumb to her lower lip, and she let her mouth fall open even wider.

“Good girl.” His voice was low, scratchy, and his words made her chest tight. “Open wide.”

Though her cheeks already hurt, she tried to force her mouth open even more. He cupped her cheeks, and compared to the previous grip on her hair, it was gentle, though his fingers dug in hard. She let her tongue loll out, wanting to taste him. Anyone.

He pushed inside her slowly. Withdrew. Pushed. Withdrew. Eventually, he bumped the back of her throat. He didn’t push past her choking point, and she gagged, drooling all over him. He thrust like that again and again, making her slobber and choke.

Behind her, the man started thrusting harder, deep, punishing thrusts that speared her through. He rubbed against a spot inside her that made her shudder and jerk each time. She hovered on the cusp of something huge, quivered between pleasure and pain.

She didn’t want to like it. She didn’t want to crave it. Her body betrayed her, opening for them, aching for them, her throat and her quim. Her breasts throbbed, her clit ached, and her skin felt raw and wonderful every place they touched her.

Rapunzel moaned around the cock filling her mouth. He grabbed even harder at her face and thrust deeper.

“Do that again,” he ordered, and pulled her face down until he slid into her throat. She groaned and moaned and felt her throat flutter around him.

Something rough and dry pressed against her bottom, then hands spread apart her cheeks. That rough finger settled against the little hole there and, with no more warning, pushed inside.

It hurt. It burned. It made her cry harder, and made her twitch, made her clamp down on the invading finger and the thick penis inside her mouth and the bigger one inside her quim. The finger wiggled inside, stretching her entrance, and Rapunzel screamed against the cock down her throat as she came, unable to hold anything back.

She set off a chain reaction. The man in front of her pulled out of her mouth. He caught her chin in one hand, lifting her up by it until her neck throbbed. With his other hand, he fisted himself. It took only a few strokes before he came, spattering his come across her breasts.

When he was done, he presented his manhood, softening now, to her again and lowered her head. “Lick it clean,” he ordered. She stuck her tongue out, but that was about all she could do. It was enough for him, and he dragged the head across her tongue, cleaning himself of the thick come and leaving her with the flavor of salt and sweat.

The man behind her thrust harder and deeper than ever, pounding into her as fast and steady as the beat of a galloping horse. He clung tight to her hips and slammed into her, spurting hot inside, filling her up. He wasn’t the first one to come inside her, but she felt it as if it was a brand new experience.

Her body gave in and she came once more, sobbing and begging him to stop. Begging him for more.

He lowered her slowly until her feet touched the floor again. Once she was steady, he patted her ass, heavy blows that left her skin stinging.

“You feel good, girl,” he grumbled, and left her with one more sharp smack.

That finger was still in her bum. She didn’t know whose it was, who touched her. She didn’t care. Her body felt empty, aching.

“Please,” she said, the word garbled. She couldn’t find another word to follow it.

“Don’t worry, you pretty thing.” A second finger sank into her, stretching next to the first. “I’m going to take care of you. You’ve done so good, you get more.”

The men moved around her, another penis at her mouth, another at her quim, more fingers in her bum. They fucked her and filled her and made her come over and over, no matter how she begged for less, no matter how she begged for more.

Finally, she sagged on the table, covered in sweat and semen, a shaking, exhausted mess.

The pub owner unbound her hands and crouched in front of her. She stared at him, bleary, and he made her sip tepid water.

“You’re going to make me a fortune,” he told her, and carefully wiped her face clean. He smiled at her, and as tired as she was, it made her feel warm all over. She had done that, made him smile. Pleased him.

He gave her more water and, when her legs stopped shaking, had one of the men carry her upstairs and place her in a warm bath. She dozed there, head pillowed on the pile of hair she folded over the rough wooden edge.

She woke much later when two men carried Flynn Rider into the room. The water was cool now, the room cold, and she shivered. The men shifted them around, carried her to the bed, refreshed the water, dumped Flynn into it next. He looked as used as she felt, body studded with bruises and come and ale.

He was asleep when they moved him from the water to the bed. They put him between her and the wall and bound one of his hands to the leg of the bed.

The pub owner came to join them. He stroked Rapunzel’s hair back from her face. It was knotted and tangled, a damp, heavy weight though she’d been careful to keep it out of the water as much as she could.

“Rest up, you good girl,” he told her. “Tomorrow we’ll put you to work.”

She basked in his compliment and let herself drift. She noticed when he tied her hair around the bed and around both her and Flynn, but she did not care.

Her body ached, over-sensitive and needy. Her dreams were filled with moving bodies and undeniable pleasure.

She had done good here. She had pleased them. Tomorrow, she would please them again. She would be their good girl.


End file.
